


Red Ash

by shaylea



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Breathplay, Choking, Control, Dom Jensen, Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Obedience, Orgasm Denial, Possessive Behavior, Social Media, Sub Jared, Top Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 23:46:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11092440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaylea/pseuds/shaylea
Summary: Two very different versions of the donut picture being taken.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote chapter 1 in the immediate aftermath of the picture, then as events developed I wrote a new version, chapter 2, that better fitted the emerging facts. Obviously we'll never know what really happened.

 

It should be easy.  As he follows his wife back into the Red Ash restaurant, Jensen deliberately doesn’t look up towards the elevated section, to the table where 48 hours ago he spent an enjoyable evening with no idea it was going to shatter his world.

One version of his world, at any rate.

Luckily she heads towards the counter.  “This doesn’t have to take long,” she says as she pulls a chair out. 

He should be doing that.  If he was any kind of husband, he’d do it for her.  Instead, he fumbles with his own, scraping it across the floor with a screech that echoes down his spine and for a moment he remembers Jared, laughing uproariously after he knocked his chair over upstairs then accidentally kicked it when he went to pick it up.  Jensen gave him one of his censorious-Dean glares, which only made Jared laugh harder, much to the bemusement of their dining companion.

“Allow me,” Jensen said, making a production of it to keep those hazel eyes dancing, and with a grin, Jared bowed gracefully with a sweep of his arm to indicate go ahead.  It was one of those special secret-yet-public moments when he took the excuse to seat Jared the way he would (should, but apparently not today) his wife and let his fingers brush Jared’s shoulder and the back of his neck before he moved away. 

All their little ways to pretend that reality was real when they had to act like it wasn’t.

He manages to seat himself and reaches for a menu.

Danneel takes it from him.  “You know what we’re ordering.”

It took all his control the other night not to order for Jared.  That’s another game of theirs when they go out, Jensen telling the server both their orders.  Sometimes it’s part of another game, a game where he doesn’t let Jared choose at all, where he guesses what Jared wants or decides what Jared will have, depending on which way they’re playing it, but mostly it’s another ritual they’ve co-opted from traditional couple behaviour. 

It started by accident, the very first night they went out for drinks after meeting outside that audition room to discover they’d both been chosen.  They went to a bar, and because Jared looked so adorably young, Jensen was the one to place the order.  As soon as he’d done so, he panicked, afraid he’d taken liberties that weren’t yet his to take with this beautiful, radiant boy who’d astoundingly been cast to play his brother, but Jared had beamed down at him.  “How’d you know my favourite, dude?”

Taste in beer was only the first of what turned into a very long list of favourites they have in common. 

The first time they ordered pizza, Jared said, “Surprise me,” and Jensen found it strangely pleasing to pick toppings for Jared to eat.  Again he’d guessed right, and something territorial stirred deep within him as he watched Jared take each bite.  _I decided you’d eat that.  I chose that for you.  You’re eating that because of me._

But two nights ago he couldn’t do that.  Leo would have looked askance had Jensen ordered for both himself and Jared, even though Jensen is pretty sure his wife knows more than she should, thanks to her close friendship with Danneel, and isn’t likely to have kept it to herself. 

Jared obviously followed his thoughts, because he glanced uncertainly at his menu then up at Jensen.  “What do you think?” he murmured as Leo clarified the contents one of the sauces with their server, and Jensen realised he’d found a way to get around it.

He scanned his menu.  “The chicken.”

“Seriously?”

That wasn’t Jared’s favourite by far, and Jensen shrugged in a deliberately casual way, letting Jared know he could take it or leave it.  “Yeah.”

“The _chicken_.”

“Yes, Jared.”

And five minutes later he fought to keep victory off his face as Jared ordered the chicken even though Jensen ordered the steak for himself. 

It was the little things.  Always the little things.  Almost invisible to the world, yet essential between them to keep going.

Danneel has already ordered for them.  He bites back an inappropriate laugh at the thought of ordering for her.  She’d think he’d lost his mind and lecture him on the rights of women and the evils of the patriarchy, nothing he doesn’t agree with, but at least that’s not an issue with him and Jared.  Jared doesn’t feel at all demeaned when Jensen takes charge, he doesn’t see it as an insult, as Jensen declaring that he can’t look after himself.  Jared can take care of himself just fine.  It just happens to thrill him to let Jensen do it, especially in public. 

“Good,” Danneel says as she scopes out the room behind them.  “Lucas is serving tonight, so he can help us out.” 

Lucas.  Jensen doesn’t turn around.  Lucas isn’t blatant about it, but he’s gay as the rainbow pin he’s wearing discreetly on his lapel for pride month, and it hadn’t taken him long to figure out the truth of the relationship between Jared and Jensen.  That’s one of the reasons they come here.  He’s let them know, subtly, of course, that he wouldn’t be averse to joining them if they were interested, and although they can’t ever take that risk, it hasn’t prevented Lucas from starring in a number of shared fantasies between them.  Jared in particular likes to tease Lucas whenever they come here, always finding excuses to bend over, to make obscene gestures with his tongue, and Lucas is respectful enough of Jensen’s prior claim to take them in the spirit in which they’re made, to appreciate them and to occasionally whisper something to make Jared blush, but always with one eye on Jensen to ensure he’s not going too far. 

Jensen likes Lucas.  He’s not going to enjoy entangling the man in this farce. 

Their donuts arrive.  He looks down at them, suddenly wishing he were Dean and full of appetite for their sugary sweetness.  Sometimes he wonders how Dean keeps going, considering the horrors he endures.  Yes, he gets darker and harder, but he still has his irrepressible appetites for the joys of life, and these donuts would be one of them.  Dean would love this moment, here with a pretty girl in the summertime, no one trying to kill him, his brother not in danger—

But he _is_ in danger, the man who plays Dean’s brother.  In unfortunate Sam-like fashion, he’s the one whose caused the danger and it’s danger to them both.  And no, it’s not demons or ghosts or shifters who lurk, poised for attack, but Dean’s least favourite enemy: humans.  Humans who saw the nine letters Jared typed in an instagram hashtag and went ballistic.

Jared pleaded so sweetly the other night for a photo and Jensen didn’t foresee any harm.  They’ve both been good boys for so long, and Jensen can’t even remember the last time he posted a photo with Jared in it.  Even so, to be safe, he suggested that Leo come and pose between them, couching it as photographic improvement, but Jared caught his eye and nodded slightly to show he got the message.  He knew, damn it.  He _knew_ how careful they still have to be.

Jensen didn’t think any more of it.  They enjoyed the rest of the evening with Leo, left separately, as always, and he went home to kiss JJ and the twins and check in on Danneel before heading over to Jared’s for the night, only to be met with chaos.

And the most glorious pang of ecstasy.

It’s not even true, they weren’t alone, but it’s the most real either of them have been able to be since Jensen’s ill-advised “Love ya, pal” on Jared’s birthday tweet last year, and his heart soared when he read it. 

 _#DateNight with @jensenackles_  

Yes, there was more, but it was as irrelevant as Leo’s physical presence had been. 

 _#DateNight with @jensenackles_  

That’s what the fangirls call it whenever he and Jared are seen out together, the reason they are no longer allowed to hang out publicly away from the show or conventions, and that’s what Jared went with when he posted the picture on instagram.

_#DateNight with @jensenackles_

As the fallout erupted around him, Jensen clung to those words.  Yes, Jared shouldn’t have done it.  Yes, it’ll cause no end of censure and damage control, and God knows how long they’ll have to pay for it or how abhorrent the cost will be, but even now, sitting here faced with immediate penance, Jensen can’t bring himself to care. 

Jared wrote _#DateNight with @jensenackles_ for all the world to see and refused to let anyone take it down. 

“If you want me to, I will,” he assured Jensen in bed later that night after Danneel had done her best to rush to the rescue via an old picture with Leo's wife Tiffany, which confirmed exactly what Jensen had suspected earlier.  “I just—after Rome—I needed to.  I needed them to know.”

And they did know.  Any casual glance at instagram or twitter or tumblr showed the explosive reaction across the world in _Supernatural_ circles.  “We’ll cope,” he said, reaching for Jared’s phone and turning it and its insistent notifications off.  He laid it on the bedside table and pulled Jared down against him. 

Jared came eagerly, his relieved huff of breath proving that he hadn’t been as secure about his reckless action as he’d made out to be.  He snuggled into Jensen’s chest, wrapping his long legs around Jensen’s, tangling them up together as if afraid something might tug them apart while they slept.  “You’re not mad?”

“I should be.”  But Jensen couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up at Jared’s baby-brother-Sammy voice.  “Maybe you should have warned me.”

“Would you have stopped me?”

Jensen’s fingers tightened around strands of Jared’s hair.  “Hey, I’d have typed it in myself.”

Because he would have, had he known Jared wanted it out there.

Meanwhile, Danneel has been outlining the donut-sharing plan to a bemused Lucas.  “It’s going to be messy,” Lucas predicts once he’s understood the concept she’s after.  He slants a sideways glance at Jensen and Jensen knows immediately that Lucas has seen Jared’s instagram.  There’s a tiny _way to go_ gleam, and Jensen lets the corner of his mouth twitch in acknowledgement. 

“If you get us enough napkins,” Danneel says, “we can put them on our laps and contain any mess.  Jensen, you’ll have to move closer to me, though.”

“Sure.”  It’s the first word he’s spoken since they entered Red Ash.  He tries to look suitably enthusiastic, the way he would if he were a husband in love with his wife and eager to take this cheesy intimate picture with her for donut day, of all things.  He pastes on a smile, the kind Dean gives to reluctant witnesses to reassure them.  “Thanks, Lucas.”

“Not a problem.”  Lucas moves away to fetch more napkins, and as he does, he meets Jensen’s eyes one more time and lightly touches his pin. 

It’s good to know he and Jared have support.  Just like a surprising amount of what he saw on social media yesterday in the wake of Jared’s post.  Not everyone hates the thought of them together.  Not everyone will vilify them when the truth eventually comes out. 

He shifts his chair over closer to Danneel.  It screeches again and she frowns. 

“Can you stop making such a spectacle of us, please?” 

As if what they’re about to do isn’t going to create even more of one?

Biting back a sarcastic response, he nudges a donut.  It’s gooey and soft, and he’s never felt less like putting something in his mouth. 

If only he was doing this with Jared.  They’d make a tremendous mess of it, get sugar all over their faces and cream splattered everywhere, and be laughing so hard they’d have trouble holding it in their mouth long enough to pose.  Jared would poke him beneath the table, probably even sneak in a fondle or two, just enough to make Jensen breathless and needy, and between them they’d take the hottest, sexiest photo possible in a family establishment.  And afterwards, as he licked cream off his fingers, Jensen would murmur all the ways he’d like to eat the rest of the cream off Jared’s body and he’d watch Jared’s eyes darken, hear his breath accelerate, until eventually one of them broke—and it was never a given which one of them it would be—and they had to dash out of here.

Danneel jabs his shoulder.  “Are you sure you put on the right shirt?”

“You said the blue one.”

She regards him suspiciously, then pulls out her phone.  “It looked darker in the photograph.”

“Different lighting.”  The dark blue shirt is currently scrunched up beneath Jared’s bed covered in something Danneel definitely doesn’t want to know about.  This shirt is identical to it.  Other than being several shades lighter, of course.

“It’s not the same,” she points out, turning her phone to show him, and there’s Jared’s picture, Jensen’s dark denim, Jared’s impish face.  Asshole, he was already planning his caption when the photo was taken, wasn’t he?  He looks so cheeky and happy, so full of mischief.  That’s always been Jensen’s favourite Jared and he smiles as he lets his eyes slide further down to Jared’s words.

_#DateNight with @jensenackles_

“You can fix it online before you post it.”

Danneel sighs and turns off her phone.  “You’re a lost cause, you know that?  One day you’re going to go too far and nothing I can do will be able to save you two idiots.”

“Thanks, Danni.”  He refocuses his gaze on her, annoyance at this charade seeping away with the reminder of just how worthwhile it is.  “I don’t say it enough, but he and I are very grateful for what you do.”

“You should be.”

She’s got a lot out of their arrangement too, but Jensen is aware that he’s the main beneficiary.  He and Jared. 

After that, it’s easy to take the picture.  Actually, it’s complicated and sticky, much to Lucas’s smothered amusement, and uncomfortable as hell, but when they check through the several options that Lucas took, there’s enough there for Danneel to present exactly the image intended.

And the true colour of his shirt is too blatant to be hidden entirely, no matter what she does with colour and saturation settings.

He drops an awkward kiss on her cheek, along with a couple of bills on the counter, more than enough to thank Lucas for conspiring in the coverup.  “I’ll see you tomorrow to take JJ to the lake with the boys.  Eleven, right?”

“You’ll be lucky if I don’t make you take all three of them,” she says darkly.  “Don’t be late.”

“I won’t be.  Post that in a couple of hours, once people start posting photos with Jared at the party.”

“You’re welcome, Jensen.”

“Thank you, Danneel.”

She flashes him a wink and the ghost of the smile he knows she’s suppressing.  “Go get your boy.”


	2. Chapter 2

He meant it.

It’s the craziest thing but Jared isn’t at all bothered as he follows Jensen and Danneel back into Red Ash, despite the distasteful mission they’re on.  He wants to dance, the way he does around a convention stage or on set between takes.  _This is where it happened_ , he wants to announce at the top of his voice to the disinterested diners.  _This is where I told the world the truth about Jensen!_  

Yes, he may be returning in order to carry out damage control, an act that’s supposed to erase what he did, belittle the import and reaffirm that Jensen does not, in fact, belong to him but belongs instead to the woman who is legally his wife, but Jared doesn’t care.  It’s too little too late.  The damage was done the moment he pressed _Share_ on his instagram post and his words were broadcast to the world in a single second. 

_#DateNight with @jensenackles_

He tunes into Jensen and Danneel arguing about the best place to take the photo.  Danneel wants to head upstairs to the scene of Jared’s crime.  Jensen points out that the counter would be the place easiest for people to identify as the Red Ash. 

“Right, Jared?”

“Yeah, the counter’s good.”  Jensen sounds stressed so Jared catches his gaze, flashes his eyes towards the upstairs section and winks.  He watches with satisfaction as the rigidity of Jensen’s muscles eases slightly and his eyes warm. 

_I love you, remember?_

_Same.  Always._

_And I told everyone._

_You did._

Jensen actually smiles.  It’s small, faint, but it’s there, and this is why Jared regrets nothing.  His words, written on a whim because after everything that happened in Australia and Rome he simply couldn’t keep them in any longer, meant everything to Jensen. 

Jared’s not usually good with words.  He has too many, all competing for space in his brain, demanding to be heard, and he can’t keep up with them, and sometimes they mean too much or contradict each other when said out loud, even though _he_ gets the way they fit but he can’t seem to communicate it.  Jensen’s a relief to be around, because with him Jared doesn’t need words.  Jensen understands the difference between a tap on the arm that means _I appreciate you_ and one that means _I’m in a bad place, help me now._   He knows that Jared’s hand randomly groping at his chest while Jared’s turned away from him means _You mean so fucking much to me I can’t look at you right now because I’ll give away everything_ , but that it also sometimes means _Have fun with me, join in, stop worrying and let me take over for a bit._   He can read entire paragraphs in a single glance from Jared.  They can plan a prank, decide on an entertaining story to tell, pick a joke to act out with only two seconds of eye contact. 

Jensen turns back to Danneel as he determines where they should sit for the best view, giving as much meticulous attention to this single photograph as he does to the episodes of _Supernatural_ he directs.  He’s fussing over lighting, but Danneel isn’t the font of knowledge that Jensen’s consultants on set are, and his shoulders are tightening again.  He doesn’t want to do this.  It’s not what he would do naturally, and it offends him to not only do something so uncharacteristic but also to give the appearance of undermining Jared’s hashtag.  That’s been his underlying issue all day, Jared knows, and he’s at a loss as to how to reassure Jensen that he doesn’t care.

Nothing can touch him today or for the foreseeable future.  No matter how much stress he’s caused around them, Jared has declared himself to the world.

_Jensen is my date.  Not the woman I appeared with at a government function last week, the mother of three of my children, the actress I told y’all I asked out on a first date after we did a sex scene together.  I might have stood up in front of everyone and married her, but this, THIS, is the person I love.  This is my mate, my lover, my beloved.  And maybe I can’t say it out loud, maybe I have to keep up the lies, but this man is the rest of me and I’ve denied it for too long and I’m not denying it any longer._

Words again.  This is the problem with words, there are always too many of the wrong ones screaming to come out.  No matter how much he talks, how many jokes he tells, there’s always this concealed scream:  _It’s Jensen!_

“Our faces will be in shadow.”  Jensen evaluates the situation with narrowed eyes.  “There’s no light if we sit here at all.  We’d be better off waiting for that couple over there to leave.”

“I could ask them to swap,” Danneel offers, and she would, Jared knows. 

He reaches out to run a hand over Jensen’s shoulder, snagging his attention away from the problematic lights.  When Jensen turns to him, Jared lightly fingers his collar and tugs. 

Jensen’s face clears.  Darker lighting will give him greater deniability for his much paler shirt, which he seems to have forgotten about in his indignation at having to pose for this.  They’re undermining the undermining, so to speak.  The fans who pay attention will notice, and those who don’t probably wouldn’t even remember what colour Jensen’s shirt was in the first picture, the picture where he belongs to Jared.

“I’m gonna frame that shirt,” he tells Jensen while Danneel sees to getting their order now that the seating issue has been resolved.  “Immortalise it behind glass like a winning football jersey.  We can put it up on the wall in the boat house.”

“And explain it how?”  Jensen’s now preoccupied with how to frame the background, squinting and visualising angles, shifting between the chairs to check the view.

“I’ll frame my instagram beneath it.  Or, no,” Jared considers as he helpfully moves the chairs around in response to Jensen’s direction, “I’ll frame the other picture we took, the selfie, with the first half of my hashtag.  Hey, Jensen, just think, how about we cover the whole wall.  We could pick all our favourite selfies and print them out.  We can install a curtain to cover the wall for when we need to, but – oh, wait, no, I’m thinking we make it our social media wall.  We can frame our favourites, like your lonely Jensen one and me in the snow with iced coffee.” 

Yes, this is working.  Jensen is distracted as his mind follows down Jared’s path and he starts imagining the idea.  “We could plan more,” he says speculatively, and, oh, how Jared would love to see what images are in his head.  “Deliberately make posts we want up there.”

“It’s like a scrapbook!” Jared crows, and laughs when he gets the derisive eye roll he was after. 

“Dude.  No.”

“I’m still gonna frame the shirt, though.”  He picks a fluff off Jensen’s sleeve and blows it at him.  “This shirt too.  They can be exhibits A and B.”

“I want to burn this shirt,” Jensen says darkly. 

“I want to take you home and fuck you in it.”

To Jared’s delight, Jensen opens his mouth to retort but nothing comes out.  He has to content himself with a glare, but it’s a Dean glare, which Jared’s very accustomed to shrugging off in a way poor old Sam never can.  Luckily for Jared, Dean’s opinion doesn’t matter to him and Jensen knows it. 

“Danni, did you get the ones with all the cream?” he asks while Jensen tries to compose himself, a task Jared impedes by trailing his fingers up and down Jensen’s wrist where no one else can see in suggestive imitation of what he plans to do to a different part of Jensen’s body later tonight when all the damage control has been executed. 

“Cream-filled, sugar on top.”

“Perfect to suck on,” Jared whispers in Jensen’s ear, derailing his attempted objection.  Jensen, of course, wanted the least messy option, the one which was also least identifiable as a donut, and they couldn’t have that.  If they’re doing this, they’re going all the way. 

“Be grateful it’s not pasta day, Jensen,” Danneel says, “or you’d _have_ to do the spaghetti.”

“Not gonna happen.”  Jensen’s voice returns, hard and flat and adamant, wicked man that he is, because he knows that voice turns Jared as gooey as the donut inside. 

To punish him, Jared pinches hard on the soft muscle above Jensen’s elbow.

“Behave.”  The word is barely whispered, but it’s accompanied by Jensen’s best commanding glare, not the terrifying one Dean uses that makes even Sam quake, but dirty and knowing, searing through Jared’s skin to set his blood tingling.  It means _obey or else_ , and Jared is instantly tempted to provoke the _or else_ , but this isn’t the time or place for their games.  They’re supposed to be making reparations, not pushing the rules past breaking point in public yet again. 

Because it’s not in him to go down without a fight, he sticks out his tongue at Jensen, not too far, just enough for Jensen to observe the way he slowly circles it around the inside of his lips.  _Yeah, baby,_ _this is exactly what I’m gonna do to your cock later, so make sure you’re nice to me._

“Guys,” Danneel says, with such impatience it’s obvious she’s already said it at least once.  “The donuts are here.  Are we going to do this thing or not?”

“Yeah.”  Jensen snaps back into Mr Director mode, but the strain is gone from his voice.  “The chairs are good.  Danni, take that one and I’ll sit here.  Jared, is the light on both our faces?”

Jared steps back to check.  “It’s fine.”

“Okay.”  Jensen accepts his word for it.  “Shift forward on your seat,” he tells Danneel.  “Jared, light?”

“Still fine.”  It’s going to be dark, but it’ll work.  The darker the better, as far as Jared’s concerned.  Nice and obscure to not expose Jensen too badly. 

Jensen picks up a donut and it squelches in his grip.  Cream oozes out, making him wince.  “This is fucking disgusting.”

“I’ll do it.”  Danneel reaches for another one with a far daintier grasp and brings it towards her mouth.  “Like this?”

“Yeah.  Lean forward,” Jared instructs, cast in the unusual role of director of Jensen, in lieu of those who normally take charge when he has to act.  It feels strangely good, because this way he knows Jensen will be properly protected.  No one will force him to do anything he doesn’t want to do.  Apart from taking the photo in the first place, of course, but it was Jared’s idea to use the donuts after the ghastly _Lady and the Tramp_ idea was first proposed, and while he’d usually have fun making it as aggravating and messy and unpleasant for Jensen as possible, that’s not what he wants tonight.  Maybe it would make it easier for Jensen to have Jared being a pain in his ass as usual, but Jared can’t.  Not with this.  Not like that.

“She’s not gonna bite you, Jensen.  See?  Her teeth are already engaged.  Get closer.”

“I’ll bite _you_ ,” Jensen mutters, but he leans forward to stretch his mouth wide over the edge of the donut. 

“Don’t snarl.  She’s not Red Riding Hood.”

It’s Danneel’s turn to roll her eyes.  She fixes Jensen with a wordless glare, unable to speak with her mouth full.  He glares back then shoots a look sideways at Jared. 

_Get on with it._

Jared shouldn’t be enjoying how awkward they look, how incredibly unromantic this picture will be.  He should try to fix it, try to direct them better to achieve the desired outcome, but this is his personal desired outcome and it will be Jensen’s too, because everyone who knows Jensen even a little bit will be able to observe how he’s hating every moment and see through to the lie.

Plausible deniability.  Words they live by.  Fulfil the letter of the law while violating the spirit entirely.

He snaps the picture just as the first dollop of cream plops onto Danneel’s arm.  Impressively she doesn’t react, and he takes two quick follow-ups just in case.  “Cut!”

Jensen jerks away instantly, bringing his hand up to catch the falling donut.  It splats against his palm and Jared wants to lick it.  All three of them watch in silence as two drops of cream slide off the edge of his hand onto his pants. 

Jensen raises his eyes to Jared’s with a gleam around a question: _You wanna?_

In reply, Jared fishes Jensen’s wallet out the back of his pants and tosses it to Danneel.  “You pay, I’ll get him cleaned up.”

She’s wiping her arm with a napkin, but stops to remove a twenty from the wallet before passing it back to him.  “I’m not sticking around for that.”  Her voice confirms she knows exactly what they have planned. “ Take your time, boys.”

She knows them too well, and now that the deed is done, he gives her a happy smile.  “Oh, we will.”

“Jared will send you the best shot when we’ve had a chance to look,” Jensen says.  “Then post it once the first photos of him at the party start showing up.”

“I know what to do.  Don’t worry.”

“Thanks, Danni,” Jared calls over his shoulder as Jensen steers him towards the men’s room. 

She waves.  “Any time.”

Anytime you two screw up, she means.  That’s fine.  If it’s as painless as this to make up for what he did, he’s going to be hard-pressed not to do it again. 

The moment the door closes behind them, Jensen’s on him, shoving him back against it.  “Thought I told you to behave.”

“I did!” But Jared’s laughing through his protest because Jensen is hard against him and it feels so good and he’s wildly relieved that Jensen’s not going to make him wait until after he’s done his party rounds. 

Jensen raises his creamy palm.  “Lick.”

He does, sugary sweet mixed with the salt of Jensen’s skin.  It’s usually Jared doing the sweating but tonight pushed Jensen beyond his limits and only Jared will ever know how much it cost him.  He’s breathing hard, thumb and forefinger blocking Jared’s nose while his palm covers his mouth and Jared accepts the punishment, locking his lungs and focusing all his attention on being obedient, on cleansing Jensen of every sign of the atrocity he just committed.  He doesn’t even try for a gasped breath when Jensen shifts his hand momentarily before closing more firmly over his mouth.  It’s been more than a minute since he last took in oxygen, but he can last another easily and Jensen knows it.  This isn’t about pushing boundaries, it’s just Jensen needing to feel in control again after two days of constant bombardment by those with authority over them. 

Jensen’s free hand slides up Jared’s chest, then plunges down to press hard over Jared’s cock.  “You got entirely too much enjoyment out of that,” he says, both hands tightening.  “This is all your fault.  Your fault, Jared.  Your words.”

 _You loved it_ , Jared tells him through his eyes.  _Don’t lie._

“You wanted the world to know you belong to me.”  Jensen’s knee comes up between Jared’s legs, not hard enough to hurt but he’s so turned on now that the slightest pressure makes him grunt.  Jensen’s mouth curves.  “Yeah, you do.  You know you do.  Well, guess what, buddy.  I have a message to the world too.”

Lack of oxygen is starting to become a problem, but Jared remains pliant against the door.  Hearing what kind of message Jensen intends to send is far more enticing than struggling for air.  _What?_

“You’re gonna go to that party tonight fucked out and dripping, unable to think about anything other than getting home to me and begging on your knees for me to let you come.  You got it?”

Abruptly released, Jared falls against Jensen, heaving for breath.  He’s only given a moment before Jensen has him back against the door by his throat. 

“Got it?”

“I got it.”

“Take pictures, Jared.  Lots of pictures.  Pictures with anyone who even thinks about asking.  I’ll be watching.”

Jensen jerks him around and flips open his belt.  Jared presses back against him, giving Jensen space to open his jeans enough to tug them down, and then he has Jensen’s hands on his bare skin, squeezing painfully enough to draw out a long, helpless moan. 

“You like that?”

“Harder.”  He wiggles his ass against Jensen’s crotch.  “Make it hurt.”

“Oh, I’ll hurt you all right.”  Rough fingers dig into his flesh just the way he likes it.  “There’s no lube, so you just have to take me with spit.”

Jensen’s hardly ever willing to risk damaging Jared like that; even believing that Jared loves it that way sometimes, he can’t bring himself to do it.  But Jared craves the rawness of it, the intensity of the burn, the frenzy of need that requires instant gratification without waiting for convenience and safety.   He’s still pretty loose after the marathon fucking that was Jensen’s response in the immediate aftermath of the instagram post, two solid nights in a row of it, and he thrills to know Jensen’s not done, he hasn’t yet satiated whatever Jared unleashed by that hashtag. 

It does hurt, hurts in all the best ways and he abandons himself to whatever Jensen chooses to inflict on his body, knowing he can take it, frantic to take it.  Every movement he makes for the rest of the evening will spear pain through him and he knows he’s going to be as active as possible, not wanting to lose the sensation of Jensen ripping him open, Jensen inside him, Jensen as part of him.  Jensen already is all the best parts of him, but having a physical reminder always helps Jared stay grounded when they have to be apart.

It’ll only be for an hour or two, but this will get him through, his body bruised and battered, fired up and ecstatic. 

And then, once he’s done his duty, he can head home knowing he has more of this in store, more of Jensen, always Jensen, waiting for him, wanting him, loving him. 

One day the whole world will know, but for now he’ll settle for this. 

Struggling not to come from Jensen’s cock alone—bastard, Jensen knows what it does to him—Jared imagines a different photo taken tonight to be posted.  A photo taken now, a selfie he could snap, even as Jensen pounds into him, of his head thrown back, hair sweaty and wild across his face, eyes closed with bliss. 

He could hashtag it simply: _#Jensen’s_


End file.
